I Think You Are So Very Brave

Many of us are managing through an illness that may someday take our lives. However, I believe we all have a timestamp indicating a beginning and an end. Unfortunately, mine may be sooner than later, as advanced ovarian cancer is already written in indelible ink by a well-prepared clerk in Heaven's Death Records Department.

Projecting the future

I thought I would live to be very old. I still like to imagine that my most significant ailment would be missing a word here and there and watching others fill in for me. Then we would laugh, knowing how out of character this is. But, you see, I could recite chapters and verses to scientific research articles on good days, always encouraging support and a desire for change.

Getting to where I need to be

Developing a purpose and meaning in life can sustain us far more than any difficulty or malice we choose to hold on to. But, as always, it is time to forgive and reconcile. Let past turmoil go and applaud yourself for surviving and thriving. There is even a place of rest at some point.

In my Italian heritage, it is called "Il dolce far niente - the sweetness of doing nothing."

I confidently believe I am heading to a place of beauty and eternal peace. However, I have never found myself eager to start this journey. When at my worst, I ask myself whether the times of suffering and despair are worth the moments of joy. My answer remains in the affirmative.

This life for me has been such a blessing. But, unquestionably, a significant driver that keeps me going is my loving family and friends. I wish this same experience for us all.

Somewhere along the way, it is essential to acknowledge your gifts and talents. Communication and empathy have served as tremendous facilitators in reaching peace. As a result, I can be present when I see suffering and am always ready to hold a hand and lovingly remind us that we have been gifted to this world. So today I think we are very brave.

More chemotherapy

I started round 3 of 6 of my third effort with chemotherapy yesterday. It all began in 2018. This time the chemo agents are Carboplatin, Taxol, and Avastin every other week. Therefore, I can hope for seven days twice a month when I recognize myself. [In reading this back, this statement causes me to laugh out loud since I have no hair and hardly remember who I used to be.]

Once again, this chemo regime comes with a warning that kidney shutdown or liver damage can reoccur. In that case, remaining adaptive is an important goal. As a result, I may need medication holidays and quasi declarations of remissions.

Acknowledging there will never be a time of complete remission puts everything in perspective. When I rang that bell at my cancer center in 2020, it seemed to bring joy to the faces of the treatment team. Yet, I knew that secreted away in my pocket was the next series of appointments to start monthly Avastin immunotherapy for the next 12 months. Hardly the definition of remission.

This time around

Just before signing up again for a good two weeks of losses (body function, weakness, isolation, and disinterest in food or hydration, to name a few), I received excellent news from my PET scan review. A pelvic mass with an SUV of 10.2 in May 2022 [Note: An SUV of 2.5 or higher is generally considered indicative of malignant tissue] is now a maximum SUV of 4.3 after 2 1/2 treatments with chemo. In addition, another lymph node and subclavian artery involvement appear to have returned to standard size and function.

Yes, I am accepting this as my new miracle. And yes, I think it is brave.

I think it is brave that you get up in the morning when your heart aches and life is messy, and you do not feel soft for the world... I think it is brave that you keep going, that you keep believing in something more, something bigger when you don't know what it is or what you are hoping for. I think it is brave that you fight... to move forward...That is what makes you strong!

~Biana Sparacino~

Editor’s Note: We are extremely saddened to say that on August 9, 2024, Ellen Reed passed away. Ellen’s advocacy efforts and writing continue to reach many. She will be deeply missed.